


Red on White.

by cyrusbarrone



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Blood, Horror, I might delete, M/M, Maniac!Gerard, Murder, Oblivious!frank, The Purge, This is rlly fucked up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-27
Updated: 2013-06-27
Packaged: 2017-12-16 09:17:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/860480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cyrusbarrone/pseuds/cyrusbarrone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s like a Halloween, he told me. You get all dressed up; face paints, masks, and capes-- whatever. You get these knives, and he says that they’re fake but when I run my hand down the side it doesn’t feel like plastic. It’s got Trick or Treating too, I never did that as a child, so I was excited. It was like an early Birthday present. I hope we’d do it again on my Birthday. I think that adults like this Halloween more because they were speaking about it at work. I’d told Gerard about it and he said it was like Halloween, like he said last week. I think it sounded very fun, and I was looking forward to it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Red on White.

It’s like a Halloween, he told me. You get all dressed up; face paints, masks, and capes-- whatever. You get these knives, and he says that they’re fake but when I run my hand down the side it doesn’t feel like plastic. It’s got Trick or Treating too, I never did that as a child, so I was excited. It was like an early Birthday present. I hope we’d do it again on my Birthday. I think that adults like this Halloween more because they were speaking about it at work. I’d told Gerard about it and he said it was like Halloween, like he said last week. I think it sounded very fun, and I was looking forward to it. 

You don’t have buckets for candy for this type of trick or treating. We have hands holding instead and knives in the spare hand. We’re going to scare the poor people we knock on the doors of, we’ll scare them proper good. We look scary, too, proper scary. I like to dress up especially for Halloween and it was Halloween’s second holiday, so we got to dress up, too. I think everyone on the street was dressing up. I’m glad people were getting into the spirit.

We have these masks. They’re not clown masks, not really. They have these broad smiles though, red on the cheeks and arching eyebrows. It’s not scary particularly. Then there’s a blazer, tie, smart trousers, smart shoes, button up shirt. All too neat for someone who’s meant to be scary, but that makes it more so, I think. Gerard said I looked scary as I put blood onto my neck with three fingers and it made me grin. I got told off for that, grinning isn’t scary unless you’re a five year old girl.

An announcement comes at seven pm. I feel like I’m in a horror film as I listen to the words in a woman’s boring monotone—‘the annual purge has commenced. For the next twelve hours all crime is legal. Emergency services will be unavailable. Your government thanks you for your participation.’ And it made me happy that even the government are playing part to this Halloween. They didn’t even do that for the real Halloween!

Gerard looked down at me, and I didn’t smile because that wasn’t scary. I pulled my mask over my face and it concealed my smile. I could see Gerard pull his over his face and his hand connected with mine and my hand held tighter on the knives handle.

“Ready to trick or treat, baby?” he asks. His voice is a little muffled behind the mask, but I can hear him clear enough.

I nod. “I love Halloween.”

“Me too, baby,” he agreed. He pressed his forehead against the side of my head in a sign of affection.

I hear gun shots outside. It’s so fucking real. I love it. 

-

When we get to the richer side of town there are less people on the streets. There are no pools of blood coming out of the back of bodies and really, these actors are amazing. It’s weird here though, because no people are making an effort and it makes me sad because they should. It is Halloween. Well, the new Halloween.

I’m glad we have the masks. I like that nobody knows who I am. The actors have come up to us a few times, they have pretty guns. They sound real, but I don’t think anyone would kill anybody on fake Halloween. Everyone is just good at acting. Acting dead. Every time someone approaches us with their guns, Gerard turns around and tilts his head to the side, then shows his knife. They always leave us alone, it’s part of the script.

Gerard knows the script, so I follow him because he knows which houses we are trick or treating. I wonder what our treats will be. Gerard says it will be coloured red, and I guess that he means the actor’s we see will be dying. Well not dead dying, but acting dying. 

I hold his hand extra tight when we knock on a door. The house itself looks pretty locked up, I don’t know why, people don’t usually stop people from doing their trick or treating. Why would they go so far as to putting bars up on the windows and slabs in place of the door. I can’t see through the slot that Gerard’s looking through, I’m too short. I want to know what’s happening—why these people have put up such drastic protection for themselves.

Gerard tilts his head to the side and holds up his knife to the slit in the door. The moons light catches it and it looks so pretty, if only I could see how his eyes reflect it. I think that would be really pretty.

“What do you want?” a voice booms. It’s through a crackly speaker, and I look up to see where it’s coming from.

I don’t look away from the door, even if I can’t actually see what Gerard sees. I want to, but I can’t, so I just stare through my mask. It’s hot, wearing a mask, every breath seems to blur it up and make little rolls of condensation over my nose. Gerard takes off his mask and holds it in his hand, dangling it by the elastic. He grins like a maniac, and I didn’t realize my boyfriend was such a good actor.

“Trick or Treat?” he says, tilting his head, maniac grin in place. I fucking hope they pick trick. Or just that they open the door.  
The voice is crackly when it speaks back, I can hear sobbing in the background. A child’s. Maybe their parents didn’t want them to go out on Halloween. “What do you want?” asks the same man from before. I wonder if he’s watching us, I think there’s a camera here somewhere, I keep hearing these little beeps. Maybe they just choose to be voyeurs for Halloween.

“To fulfil my right, as an American citizen, to purge,” Gerard says smoothly. He runs a hand through his hair, pushing it back. 

What’s a purge?

“Leave,” says the man behind the door almost straight away. I don’t know why he sounds scared, it’s only fake Halloween and it’s all actors. He shouldn’t be scared of the knives because he’s an actor, too. 

Gerard smirks. “I’d let us in. it’d be better for you. I mean. You could come out now and we’ll only kill you… perhaps. If we have to get in for ourselves, I can’t say your children will survive.”

I don’t really understand what’s happening. I don’t understand why we’re going to hurt the children- are we actually going to hurt them or is it acting? I think it is acting, but the actors that are dead on the floor haven’t moved and I don’t know how to feel. Maybe they’re good at their job, but it makes me uneasy because have I been told the truth? Is this really just Halloween?

And the door doesn’t open. It stays shut and Gerard turns around a looks at me, tilting his head, and then he has this maniac grin on his face again. I don’t know if I’m scared or turned on as fuck. I think it’s the second option. His hands hook around my neck, his hands rubbing up the back of my hair, tufting up the slightly unwashed strands. His fingers untie the mask and it drops to the ground with a clatter. And then we’re kissing. It’s so familiar, the way his hands bring my closer, how his tongue is already there and licking into my mouth with this hot urgency from all these years of practice. How my hand digs into his hips and bring them closer with a tug. I wonder why we’re doing this but I will never complain when Gerard’s sucking at my tongue and messing my hair.

I only get scared when he pulls away and lifts the knife up, and it glints in the moonlight, it’s beautiful until he brings it up to my face and puts it against my lip ring. Metal on metal. Gerard keeps the knife there and turns his head, my hearts beating a million times a minute. I’m not scared because I know that Gerard won’t ever hurt me.

“I advise you let us in,” Gerard slurs. He sounds drunk again. Like all those years ago, and perhaps he is. He slides the knife from my lip ring, digging it into my lower lip and blood raises from it as soon as the metal touches it. I stay so fucking still. “I’d like to inform you that there are a lot of explosives around your house, and Frankie here has the button to blow them all up.”

Do I?

I fix my expression to something that doesn’t show emotion because that’s not scary. As soon as emotion is properly shown, the whole illusion goes that you’re some horrific creature. I stare at the knife that is lined down my lip and I keep staring at it. I only know I can look away when there’s this mechanical click, is it bad that I’d wanted to use the bombs?

A man stands in front of me and I don’t know who he is. He recognizes Gerard, though, because his expression sets and the gun in his hand makes a clicking sound. The safety’s off. I wonder if it’s a real gun as Gerard drops the blade from my lip, scarlet following in a drip after the silver. I suck on my lip, liking the tangy, coppery taste on my tongue.

“Gerard,” the guy says, and even those two syllables sound desperate. “Please. Leave my kids.”

His grin is fucking maniac, and is it bad that my cock kind of twitches in my trousers because of it? I suck harder on my bottom lip, tightening my hold on Gerard’s sweaty hand. I stare at the guy. He must be in his thirties, or something. He’s wearing a tie, too, it lays low and his shirt is slightly unbuttoned. Gerard shakes his head and his fingers drop mine and lift up, grabbing onto this guys tie, he used the momentum to drag him forwards with an almost creepy giggle.

“Oh, but they’re the fun part!” Gerard practically squeaks, his eyes widening and brightening much like a child’s. he lets out another gleeful giggle as his hand brings up the knife faster than I thought were actually possible, it hits the man’s throat and he’s pressed against the door frame. Blood falls from where the edge of the knife is pressed. It’s fucking hot. Gerard’s a good physco.

The man’s breathing sounds far more laboured now, and his eyes are wide, popping nearly. He’s stilled though, not struggling now that he’s realized how real that knife actually is. He begs again with these big eyes, “don’t kill them. Please.”

And Gerard slits his throat and there’s so much blood. It sprays around, blood on our faces and staining onto Gerard’s teeth. He looks even more crazy now, but so much more gorgeous. I lick blood from my lip and a smirk grows. 

Gerard’s fingers lock around the back of the dead guys neck, and he drags the dead-weight up, and pointing the lolling head at the little camera. “Happy Purge, babies,” he grins, showing off blood stained white teeth. The body drops from his hands and he stumbles forward, drunk with something. His hand grips onto mine again and I hold the blood shining hand tightly and we walk  
into the house with these drunk stumbles.

The house is all white, there’s pictures of the family and trophies are stacked on shelves. I bring my bloodied hand against the white wall and drag it, vibrant red against dull white. It’s beautiful. Like a horror film, like I’ve been dragged into one like I’ve always dreamed of. 

There’s steps above us and they’re trying to hide but it’s likely fruitless. I have the trigger for these bombs. I don’t know what said trigger is but I have it. Gerard turns his knife around, holding the blade and holding that instead, he thumps the handle against the ceiling, loud and clear. “I wouldn’t run, won’t help you,” Gerard cries, letting out this crazed cackle before spinning the knife and holding the hilt again.

I tuck my hands underneath his jaw, tugging him closer with this desperate need. Our teeth clack, and we kiss with more biting and more tongue than what’s good, but it doesn’t matter. It’s fucking good. “Fraaankie,” Gerard murmured, grinning with blooded teeth, he pressed his nose against my cheek, cupping his fingers under my jaw and dragging a hot tongue against my cheek.

The footsteps are quiet and we make our way up the stairs, fingers clamped together and eyes darting around, looking for light, for people, for something. There’s a sob and Gerard’s maniac is back, he licks his lips like he’s the fucking Joker, doing it a couple of times. He taps his fingers against the backs of my hand, telling me to keep fucking quiet, and I do, following his drunken steps down the hallway.

His children are twins, that’s what they look like anyway. Blonde hair tucked into bunches, and little sleeping dresses hanging around their ankles. They have these terrified looks and their mother has a matching look. I close the door behind us and click on the light. We’re in a bathroom, all white tiles and see through showe wall.

“Kill me, don’t hurt the kids,” sobs a desperate mother. I walk up behind her, and she’s shaking so fuvking visibly. I drag my arm around her throat and the knife is gently there, and I hold her still, holding, tucking the knife in my trousers so I can hold her eyes open on Gerard.

Gerard’s crouched to the kids height, that smile dragging at his mouth and he’s speaking in a murmur to one of the girls who looks more and more scared, but this smile is dragging on her face either way. It’s fucking creepy. The kid turns to her sister, hand reaching out and staring blue eyes with tilted head. Her sister walks close and the children walk to Gerard and hug him, his knife impaling the first ones stomach. The night dress becomes blanched in red, swelling out over the white.  
I hold the woman tighter as she screams, echoing sounds. The other kid looks scared, and Gerard’s quicker with her, grabbing onto her wrist.

Her blood sprays over the mother and I drag my knife down the woman’s neck, digging it in just enough and there’s more blood. More stained red grins and more teeth clacking kisses between blood soaked fingers.

And maybe those people weren’t actors but that doesn’t mean we can’t play the serial killers.

**Author's Note:**

> This story is based on The Purge because the concept of that film is flawless, so I wanted to do my own version of it- so credit to whomever wrote The Purge. I hope you like this, because not only is ObliviousFrank! in it, but it also has ManiacGerard! which happens to be one of my favourites!
> 
> I'd love some feedback! 
> 
> Thank you for reading!


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